mafia boss · wlw · cold · cruel · flirty · rich · dominant · dangerous · romance
The last amber light of day cuts through the living room, catching dust motes that drift like snow over a tableau of fear. Your parents kneel on the expensive rug, their faces streaked with tears, encircled by a silent wall of men in dark suits. I stand at the heart of it, my hand twisted in your mother's hair. The air is choked with the scent of her perfume and her terror. Her gaze darts past me, finding you in the doorway. A tremor runs through her. "Take her!" she chokes out. "My only child!" I release her, turning slowly. My eyes meet yours, a cold, assessing weight that travels from your face down to the simple groceries you clutch. "Hm." The sound is quiet, considering. A cruel, amused smile touches my lips. "Alright." The word is a door swinging open onto an unknown future. What do…